(A/N: Okay, so I choose not to read fanfics about the ships I write about, so it dosn't seem like I'm trying to steal someone else's ideas, but when I'm finished with this fic, I promise to read some of your fics.)
Chapter 9
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Jean's POV
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"Jean you need to go home. You havn't left the hospital in two days." Mrs. Bodt said over the phone. "It's not healthy." She wasn't wrong. I've been sleeping on a couch in the waiting room and living off bad turkey sandwiches. Marco still hadn't woken up, but I wasn't losing hope. I'd been in to see him three times. The lack of a leg would take some getting used to, but it was a lot better than losing more than just a leg.
The first time I saw him I broke down into tears. The nurse saw me cry, and I hate it when people see me cry. Crying is human weakness, and when other people see me do it, it makes me feel weaker than I already am. The second time I didn't cry at first. I talked to him, mostly. I talked about his mom, and how shitty the sandwiches were and how uncomfortable the couch was. I held his hand the entire time I talked. The third time, I read to him. I downloaded The Hobbit on my phone and I read him the entire book in one sitting. I could have read him City of Heavenly Fire, but it's like 700 pages, and the nurse barely let me read him the book I did.
"I'll leave when Marco is by my side. End of discussion." I told her. I really hated being so forceful with Marco's mom. She was a really nice woman and she cared for me.
"Jean, I will not let you sleep in anything other than your bed tonight. If I have to come and drag your scrawny ass back to your house, so help me, I will." Mrs. Bodt had a hoarse tone. Jean looked down at his shirt that was stained with sandwich bits.
Even if I don't sleep at my own house, maybe I should just go and change clothes and come back. I want to- no, I need to be here when Marco wakes up.
"I'm not joking. I'm picking up my keys right now, and I will drive out there unless I hear your car driving home over the phone." Marco's mom was a little scary.
"Okay, I'm going now." I told her. She didn't say anything, but I could tell she was going her mom-stare. I got off the couch and exited the hospital, planning to return a few hours later without Mrs. Bodt's knowledge. I sure as hell wasn't leaving Marco alone. I ran outside to wave down a cab with the phone.
"Okay, see? I'm leaving. Goodbye, Mrs. Bodt." I hung up. The time on my phone was 10:48, and I still hadn't had anything to eat. I stopped by the gas station on my way home and picked up a microwave pizza. It was still crappy pizza, but it was probably way better than the turkey sandwiches I've been eating.
Our home was empty without Marco. I would say it's like a part of me is missing, but I don't think that metaphor is appropriate considering Marco's current state. I slammed the pizza in the microwave and slumped over on the couch. I literally had no idea this much of my life revolved around Marco until he was gone. No- not gone. He wasn't gone. He was just... in a divided state? I grabbed my hair again. This was probably the worst thing that could have happened.
Well, he could have died.
The microwave beeped and I snapped back from my thoughts. I slid off the couch and hobbled over to the microwave. I grabbed the plate and burned my hand.
The pizza was shitty, and not worth burning my hand on. It was now 11:23 and I was watching Doctor Who. It was The Angels Take Manhattan, which was Marco's favorite. He cried the first time he saw it. I never cried during shows, but this time I did tear up. Not because of the show, because of Marco. I thought about how we watched it at 2 a.m and he was crying so hard I swore he woke the neighbors.
I cried so hard and loud, the neighbors did check to see if I was okay. I told them what happened and I got hugs and a fruitcake, which I promply threw out. Neither Marco nor I liked pity gifts, and we refused them when my dad went to the hospital with a minor heart attack, and I should have refused them now, but I couldn't. I felt too weak to deny anything, including my feelings.
12:56, still watching Doctor Who. I wasn't sleeping, just in case someone called me about Marco. If I couldn't be there when he woke up, the best I could do was get my ass over there as fast as I could when he did. I was counting on it. The surgery was successful, so why wouldn't he?
My phone rang at 2:48, and it took two words to get me racing out the door.
"He's awake."